That languish’d in the fainting heart.
“What though so pale his haggard face,
So sunk and sad his looks,” - she cries;
“And far unlike our nobler race,
With crisped locks and rolling eyes;
Yet misery marks him of our kind;
We see him lost, alone, afraid;
And pangs of body, griefs in mind,
Pronounce him man, and ask our aid.
“Perhaps in some far-distant shore